i'm makin' time on this ole dusty road,headin' down new orleans waychattin' up the gators, slappin' down the flies, stickers hid up in the grass, thorns are in the hay,lookin' to get passioned up, down new orleans way

The 3 works below, 'near memphis tennessee', 'chico's door' and 'benjy' are part of my 'dark trilogy'. Many readers of poetry expect themes of love, anguish, heartbreak or the nobility of human pursuits. All of these topics have been dealt with for thousands of years, in what seems an exhaustive manner.

Yes, yes. The great emotions, the grand exploits and the awful trials of war will never be 'exhausted'. But there's room for the dark side, as recent generations might describe. Room for obsession, domination, stalkers, and the cold relentless pursuits of those unable to feel the restraints of an ordered society.

So don't be mislead when you read love, kiss, softness, kindness. It's not what we say, but what we do.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

i'm walking down mexico way, kicking rocks on this silly road,pondering all the whoopees, and i'll be making time with gringosserving tequila with my eggs and ham, cause i've made my day

in u s of a, jabbered with my daddy til he showed me to the door,though i'd helped him move his lady friend from his momma'skitchen floor, wished i'd always be his pridesome boy, but the

world, it moves with strangely steps, hardly ever from here tothere, it goes in weary ambulations, sometimes skipping like agirl, but andy's gone awarring, jessie's in the pen, and i'm walking

down to where the margaritas bloom, they write cervesa on the wall,maybe find an old jalopy, rusty yellow's quite the best, and i'lltoss the top in abilene, take a retread just in case, put some mad dog

in the cooler, colt 45 on ice, you know the law, it looks unkindly, onthe deeds i've left behind, but i'm a goodly boy, know all sweetjesus' prayers, even learned some catechism at that catholic fella's

The following is an aggregation of my 'lost' series. Here's the '?' series.

lost, riff #1

i may have lost my lover, sleeping botticelli in the dunes, or was iconfecting lime-sweet meringue to leave him quite a marvel, dolloppedbut i am ahungry for his sea salt, crusty glimmers for my taste, and

there are distractions in my roaming that i never fail, that knowmy poor caresses, sleep near to my night time frivols, and i can notwarm him sillied to the sun, or give him comforts to fit his riddle

ways, i am no slake to this thirsty laddy, and smile yet to the blowsyboys on Grand, delivering fame in mocha cups of froth, waiting forsome whoopee two-steps to fill my resume, i may have lost my lover

days end, nights bewilder, then fail, i get ravened up with sleeping,swallowed with some sweet vermouth, but you still want mewith your ferocious pleasures, the why of it never sings to me

it's a twisty talelost, riff #3

jocko sells my flowers, pulled without my care from ancient dahliatrees, and makes coffee-whispers when i smell him smiling, what aday full-up with flavors, were i not all loopy lost in mobile, alabam

and i can not see my window, running with these southern fellas,stepping in their shadows, making smooches for their whiskey, andi can not sing some sheebops, lying in these dusty places, snapping

sillies with my sly ole flying fingers, or may be i'll readt.williams, i have a blanche they've never seen, i am a pleasurerather rare, with treats perhaps unseemly, lost here in alabamlost, riff #4

i'm making potions for my southie boy, dark-up from his boylstontoughies, all asmudge with streetly rambles, 'less he's lost me, wherewe hide from daddy's bruises, and let the whiskey do our supper song

he's sees me with my morning shadows, hid beneath some wintercovers, laughing with those silly pixies, maybe crying for my tinker'sold despair, wondering if this dust can make me fly, 'cause i would

take my lad away, wash his feet in the salty sea, wash these tearsomedays until he sleeps his smiling sleep, 'less he's lost me, dancing downold riff-raff jingles, searching out a fancy gentleman, or two, or were you

simply dreaming

lost, riff #5

billy-ray tells tawdry tales to my neighbor lads, those deft and dilliedgawkers, out foolishing in my yard, and takes the pennies from mybedroom floor, slips my nickels into his shoes, finding luck wherehe can find it

but he saves his silly kisses for the dawn, and doesn't hear mywhispry tales, steals his place up in my window, where he canlisten to the pixie songs, maybe sell some charms to the catholic boys,he is a crafy lad

and loose with favors, or did i lose my billy-ray, south of cincinnati,chasing hop-toads through the grass, or did his loopy smiling leaveme sorrow-full, driving those old backroads, dusting round his daddy'spawpaw trees, or did we

take our fancy down to bourbon street, make a monday dawdlefor the tourists, and they might have chased us with their rum andcoca-cola, chased us to the levee where the oak trees hide the light,and where is he laughing now

my sweet ole billy-ray

lost, riff #6

jason kisses tango sweet, and makes a twisty step at 4am, makesa whispered-up confession from some tuesday dally, then does hislittle aria from romeo, drinks his pinot dry, waiting for the summered

morning, and i lost him at the dawn, could not remember his saltylips, forgot his silly gossips, and sat awonder at a face all strangered upwith oddness, speaking with a magicked rhyme that left me in a

quieted confusion, and why is there coffee strong and bourboned,chattering by my bed, why do i smell my daddy's biscuits while hesings sweet granny's song, and i lost him when i heard the jolly

neighbor lad, sitting with my jasmine, waiting for my window tocall his silly grin, and i lost him when his green eyes changed toblue, sleeping down my sunday sassies, but where is that neighbor